


Moonlight Sonata

by CitrusVanille



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Lie Low At Lupin's, M/M, Marauders' Era, Post-Goblet of Fire, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Music can be magical...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight Sonata

_The strains of music drifted up through the floorboards, weaving a spell around the boy lying in a huddle under the ripped blankets on a bed that looked as though a large animal of some kind had tried to chew it apart. Eyelids fluttered slowly open, revealing tired eyes of a strange amber shade._

_Through cracks in the boarded-up windows, faint smudges of pre-dawn light could be seen trying to sneak inside._

_With a groan, the brunet rolled off the bed and to his feet, wincing slightly as his feet connected with the ground. With a tug, the blanket he had been curled under came with him, and he held it wrapped tightly around his naked body. Moving gingerly, as though his very bones ached, he crossed the room to the closed door. With only a little bit of difficulty, he got it open and stepped out onto the landing._

_The music was louder here, and the amber-eyed boy followed the sweet notes down the stairs. At the foot of the steps he paused, cocking his head, listening. Then he walked around behind the staircase and down the short hall, coming to a stop in the doorway of the room beneath the one he had been sleeping in._

_There were very few furnishings in the small room, just an unlit fireplace, an old, faded sofa, and, in the center of the room, a baby grand piano._

_Seated at the bench was another boy. He had black hair that fell in soft waves almost to his shoulders, and intense grey eyes fixed on his own tan fingers has they flew across the ivory keys. He didn’t seem to notice his audience._

_Standing in the doorway, fifteen-year-old Remus Lupin said nothing to alert the pianist to his presence, merely held the blanket more firmly around himself, and closed his eyes, soaking in the beautiful melody._

_The last bars faded before Remus spoke, eyes still closed. “I didn’t know you could play Beethoven, Sirius.”_

_There was a loud discordant_ bang _as Sirius Black jumped in surprise, crashing into the piano as he leapt to his feet._

_ “Remus!” he gasped. “I didn’t hear you come down!” _

_Amber eyes swept open and Remus took a step into the room. “I heard you playing,” he explained. “Why did you never tell me you could?”_

_Sirius flushed. “My mum made me and Regulus learn years ago,” he muttered. “I don’t talk about it much.”_

_“You mean ever,” Remus corrected, but his voice was gentle. “It was beautiful.”_

_“I was playing for you,” Sirius admitted, looking down, away from the powerful amber gaze. “It’s your song, you know.”_

_“The Moonlight Sonata?” a chuckle escaped the brunet. “I suppose. Almost ironic that it’s one of my favorites, considering.”_

_Sirius looked up, a shy smile on his face. “I thought it might be a nice way for you to wake up the morning after the full moon.”_

_“It was. Thank you.”_

_“How… how are you feeling?”_

_“Better than usual, thanks to you, James, and Peter.”_

_“I’m glad.”_

_There was silence for a long moment, as the two boys looked at each other, a sort of nervous tension hanging thick in the air between them._

_Sirius fidgeted._

_Remus shifted and tightened his hold on the blanket, suddenly very aware that he wore nothing underneath, having hidden his clothes on a high shelf before moonrise. He began inching backwards towards the hall. “I should go get dressed,” he murmured._

_“Dressed?” Sirius looked startled. “You’re not…”_

_Remus fought the heat he could feel rising into his cheeks. “I –” he stopped._

_How had he ended up under the blanket in the first place? He usually woke up on the floor. It had been his first transformation with the company of other animals, and he didn’t remember much. Had they stayed until after he regained his human shape? That meant they’d seen him naked. He didn’t even change shirts in front of the other boys if he could help it, and they’d seen him completely undressed? Sirius had seen him completely undressed?_

_Remus clutched convulsively at his scanty covering._

_Had they seen his scars? Had there been enough light? What had they thought? Were they disgusted?_

_“I woke up in bed,” Remus began. “Did…”_

_“I put you there,” Sirius confessed quietly. “I made James and Peter leave before you changed back, I thought you’d be more comfortable if we weren’t all there.”_

_Sirius had put him in bed? Remus’s mind whirled, desperately wishing he’d been awake when Sirius had lifted him in those arms, but at the same time grateful he’d been unconscious: he would have fainted otherwise, both in shame at his disfigured skin and in ecstasy at being so close to what he’d wanted for so long._

_But Sirius had only been helping a friend. It didn’t mean anything, anymore than the Sonata meant anything more than friendship. Did it?_

_“I’m going to change,” Remus whispered. He fled._

_Back down the hall, back up the stairs, back into the violently shredded bedchamber. He slammed the door and leaned back against it, confused and embarrassed._

_For several long moments he stood there, eyes tightly shut to stop the burning sensation lurking behind the lids, blanket gripped close to his body._

_When he felt he had himself under control again, he moved away from the door to the closet. He pulled his clothes down from the top shelf and began to dress._

_Remus was just buckling his belt when the door creaked open. His hands froze on the leather as Sirius slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind himself._

_The black-haired boy said nothing, grey eyes roving across Remus’s half-dressed figure._

_Remus felt very exposed, and desperate to hide his scars. He snatched up his shirt, holding it in front of himself, ignoring the voice that said he was behaving like a girl._

_“I know they look awful,” Remus began, and stopped. He didn’t know what else to say._

_“Wha – oh, the scars.”_

_Remus blinked. Hadn’t that been what Sirius had been staring at?_

_“Do they hurt?” the grey-eyed boy inquired, moving closer._

_Remus shook his head, unable to speak, as Sirius stopped less than a foot away._

_Sirius reached out a tentative hand, as though in a trance, plucked away the shirt, and gently traced the line of one scar across Remus’s chest._

_The brunet shivered at the touch, fighting not to let his eyes close as heat swept through his body._

_Sirius moved closer, tracing the pattern of white lines more boldly now, and Remus couldn’t suppress the moan that crept up his throat._

_“Rem,” Sirius breathed, hand trailing upwards and around the back of Remus’s neck._

_Remus’s lips parted to reply, but before a sound could escape him, Sirius had crushed their mouths together in a fierce kiss._

_Remus’s mind froze, and all he could do was stand there until Sirius pulled back, face blazing red._

_“I’m so sorry,” Sirius whispered, sounding both horrified and terrified. He began backing up. “I didn’t mean… I mean I did, but I shouldn’t have… I just… I’m sor –”_

_Without thinking, Remus closed the gap between them with two swift steps, and pulled the dark-haired boy in for their second kiss._

_After a moment, he pulled away, feeling his own face heat up. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, voice low and strangely husky._

_“You’ve wanted…”_

_“Yes.”_

_Sirius just stood and stared for a moment, then, suddenly a wide grin spread across his face, and he reached out and yanked the smaller boy against him. “You have no idea how long I have wished for you to say that,” he whispered, and proceeded to soundly kiss the brunet._

_Remus returned the kiss, and the shirt fell forgotten to the scratched floor._

 

– – – – –

Strains of music drifted up through the floorboards and the man curled up in his bed rolled over, trying desperately to cling to the dream that was really a memory. Brown hair streaked with grey fell across his face as amber eyes fluttered open, full of sorrow that the dream-memory had ended.

But the beautiful melody continued to float through the air around him.

Feeling confused and more than a little disoriented, thirty-five-year-old Remus Lupin rolled out of bed and to his feet.

Not bothering to pull a robe on over his pajama bottoms and bare chest, he stumbled out of his bedroom and down the stairs of his cottage. The music was coming from the living room to his left.

He stopped in the doorway and stared.

Seated at the bench of the baby grand piano that had stood gathering dust in the corner of the room for the last thirteen years was a man with long straggly black hair, and intense grey eyes that were fixed on his own thin fingers as they flew over the slightly out-of-tune ivory keys.

Remus leaned against the doorframe, taking in the figure at the piano.

The last bars faded away, and Remus closed his eyes tightly against the sudden scratchy burn that foretold tears. “I didn’t know you could play Beethoven, Sirius,” he managed to whisper, voice choked.

There was a discordant _bang_ as Sirius Black jumped in surprise, crashing into the piano as he leapt to his feet.

“Remus!” he gasped, voice croaky. “I didn’t hear you come down!”

Amber eyes swept open and Remus stepped slowly into the room. “I heard you playing,” he said.

“It’s your song,” Sirius replied.

“When did you get here?”

“Not long ago. I didn’t want to wake you. I found the spare key and let myself in. Dumbledore sent me. Voldemort’s –”

“I know,” Remus cut him off. “Dumbledore wrote me. He told me what happened to Harry. But he didn’t say you –”

“He told me to lie low here,” Sirius cut Remus off in turn. “If that’s okay…”

“Of course it is!” Suddenly unable to take it any more, Remus crossed the room in a few swift steps and gathered the other man into his arms. “I was dreaming of the Sonata,” he whispered in the dark-haired man’s ear. “Of the first morning you played it for me, after you and the others transformed at the full moon with me for the first time.”

“The first time we kissed,” Sirius said softly in reply.

“You played it every morning after the full moon,” Remus continued quietly. “And every morning after…” he trailed off.

The two men separated briefly, eyes locking, and it was as though they were fifteen again.

Sirius’s fingers gently traced the scars on Remus’s bare chest, remembering old and mapping new.

They leaned forward at the same moment, lips finding each other again after years apart, and in both their minds, the echoes of strains of music wove spells in the air.

**END**


End file.
